


Small Hours of the Night

by Vagrant_Blvrd



Series: Crinkle Dot [8]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe- GTA V, Fake AH Crew, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-07
Updated: 2019-04-07
Packaged: 2020-01-06 07:24:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18383714
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vagrant_Blvrd/pseuds/Vagrant_Blvrd
Summary: Some days running a crew like the Fakes is worth everything it took to get where they are now. Other days it feels like some kind of cosmic karma coming back around on Geoff for all the shit he’s done in his life.





	Small Hours of the Night

Some days running a crew like the Fakes is worth everything it took to get where they are now. Other days it feels like some kind of cosmic karma coming back around on Geoff for all the shit he’s done in his life.

These idiots he’s responsible for and all the ways shit can go wrong on them and there are times it keeps him awake long after everyone else has gone to sleep. 

Slow nights like this, Los Santos quiet for a change. Lone siren in the distance and everyone going about their business like they’ve forgotten what the city can be like when someone stirs up trouble.

Living like normal people in any other city and it gets this itch going in the back of Geoff’s mind, this restless, antsy little thing.

Has him roaming the penthouse like one of those restless spirits in all the old classics. Sins weighing him down and everything so damned atmospheric.

Fog rolling in off the hills and a hush over the city.

View like no other out the window and this -

It’s not insomnia that has Geoff up in the middle of the night, no. 

Just an old man and too many idiots under his watch and what feels like more every damn day. 

The kind of life that only gives you one guarantee, so of course it’s not the one you want. (Turns out to be the one that ends with nothing but regret and another chunk of your heart ripped out of you.)

He’s not surprised when Michael shuffles into the kitchen. Nice big shiner and moving like an old man because he makes for a tempting target now that people know he has connections with them. (With Ryan.)

Juicy target the worst of the worst can’t ignore, go after with this cruel sort of glee aiming to hurt.

“Hey,” Michael says, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.

They haven’t talked much, the two of them, since that terrifying day when Ryan almost bled out in the rain and no one the wiser.

Until Ryan’s EMT called Gavin demanding to know where Ryan was. This calm to his voice bleeding over into fear that had caught Geoff and Jack’s attention halfway across the room.

This kid who kept his shit together to help Caleb and the others stabilize Ryan. Insisted on being kept in the loop about Ryan's condition with red-rimmed eyes and Ryan's blood on his clothes, and fucking hell _this kid_.

Good for them in the oddest ways, and completely unaware of it.

Geoff wordlessly pushes out a chair for him, corner of his mouth ticking up in a small smile at the mumbled thanks he gets.

Michael looks lost, _young_ , so Geoff gets up to make tea of all things. 

Gavin and his prattling on about how much good it does his nerves when he’s keyed up about something. 

Geoff supposes it’s the routine of it, familiarity and nostalgia and fond memories faded by time.

At the very least it gives his hands something to do while he waits for Michael to decide if he wants to talk about whatever is kicking around in his head. See if he wants to talk his troubles out or drown them in tea, let his brain pick and sort through things on its own until he finds the answers he’s looking for.

When the kettle whistles, Geoff pours the water into a pair of mugs and plops tea bags into them to steep. Goes over to where Michael’s been staring at his hands for a long goddamned time. Sets the mug down in front of him and Michael mumbles another thank you, hands wrapping around the mug.

None of the bullshit Gavin gives him the rare time Geoff makes tea for him, little comments about how you Americans haven’t slightest idea when it comes to tea. (Uncouth, giving Michael his tea with the tea bag still in it. Not bothering to let it steep properly and where, Geoffrey, where is the milk?)

Because this – the tea – it’s something to do. Something else to focus on instead of the merry-go-round of thoughts running through Michael’s head right now. 

Not a way of life, the way it is for Gavin, although it might be better if it was. Work more in favor of helping Michael get a grip on his thoughts if he had a personal stake in the goddamned tea etiquette debate.

“...is Trevor okay?” 

Geoff glances at Michael, sees the way he’s toying with the tea bag, poking it with his fingers when it doesn’t settle right in the mug.

Should have known he wouldn’t bother beating around the bush, would just get to the matter at hand.

Geoff sighs, taking a moment to doctor his tea before answering. Touch of sugar, nothing more, and takes a sip.

It’s not bad, but Gavin’s right in that Geoff never gets the temperature right, doesn’t let the tea steep long enough. Doesn’t know Gavin’s little tricks to get it to taste right, or his brain is dumb enough to fall into thinking it’s just better when someone else makes it, who the hell knows.

It’s...it’s been a hell of a day for everyone.

Trevor has this little game he plays with Michael. 

Not quite on the same level as Gavin and Jeremy when they disappear for a few hours and Geoff finds Ryan sitting at Gavin’s rig in the penthouse expecting the worst. (To be fair, they’ve given him plenty of reason in the past.)

Not quite to that level, but alarming enough because Trevor is a born troublemaker. 

Angel-sweet face and charming as hell, but one of the most twisted bastards Geoff’s ever had the pleasure of running into.

Has this running joke with Michael revolving around “kidnappings” that drives Ryan nuts trying to figure it out since no one in on it has seen fit to explain things.

Which leads to an exasperated Vagabond up against Trevor and the B-Team, and Michael off to the side like it has nothing to do with him.

Today, though.

Today things went to shit on them, because this is Los Santos and that happens.

A lot.

Just an old, familiar story for people like them.

Trevor and that too-smart mouth of his, and Michael just as bad in his own way against a group of assholes with a grudge against the Vagabond.

Creepy assholes who’d been watching Michael for weeks now, waiting for the just the right moment, and felt Trevor had dropped it right into their laps.

“Well,” Geoff says, thinks over his words more carefully than he with anyone else. “He won’t be up to dancing a jig anytime soon, but he’s not knocking on death’s door either.”

Not this time, anyway.

Trevor’s sporting new stitches and has something of a concussion, but he’s tougher than he looks and one stubborn son of a bitch to boot. 

He’ll be just fine.

Problem is, that’s not what Michael’s asking, not with the way he can’t seem to meet Geoff’s eyes for long.

“He’s fine, Michael.”

Michael makes a noncommittal noise, fusses with the tea bag again.

Looks so goddamned _tired,_ and Geoff gets it, he does.

Michael’s been grabbed one time too many, and everyone’s luck runs out sooner or later.

The first time he was lucky enough to have Jeremy and Gavin with him, and Ryan was there the next time someone thought to get that kind of clever, and hadn’t that been a mess? (Put assholes off trying for Michael again, but there are a lot of idiots out there with short memories.)

Today it was Trevor, but they all know there will be a day when Michael’s on his own when someone decides they want to hurt the big bad Vagabond where it’ll do the most damage.

Geoff takes a deep breath and sets his mug down on the table. 

Thinks about his idiot crew, misfit family he’s built up out here over the years. All kinds of broken, jagged edges to them.

About how it might have been better for Michael, for Ryan (everyone), if Michael had gone back to Jersey before Ryan happened to him.

If Phil had stayed on instead of fucking off the way he had.

If Michael wasn’t so _Michael_.

Because Geoff can see it in Michael, can see the uncertainty and self-recrimination in his eyes. The guilt bowing his shoulders, thoughts running through his head loud enough to wake him up or keep him from finding respite in sleep.

Trevor got hurt protecting Michael, and Michael - 

“Michael, you know this wasn’t your fault don’t you?”

If it wasn’t Michael, those assholes would have found something – someone – else to use against Ryan.

One of the others, or one of Ryan’s neighbors. The little old lady who runs the corner grocery store Ryan likes to go to. Guy down at the used bookstore Ryan spends quiet afternoons in sometimes looking for something to catch his eye. 

Michael just makes for a convenient target.

Michael makes a face, hunches down over himself like that’s not something he’s going to let go of anytime soon, that kind of guilt.

Knows better, because he’s not that stupid, but there’s knowing and then there’s _knowing_.

Right now all Michael knows is that Trevor’s hurt because of him, and logic and rational thought have fuck all to do with his thoughts about that.

No.

That’s an argument for another day, and knowing Trevor, he’s already preparing his part of it to ambush Michael with.

So.

On to the other bit of idiocy.

“Ryan’s probably thinking about scaring you off again,” Geoff says.

Idiot that he is, Ryan does things like that. 

Thinks like that.

Blames himself for dragging Michael into things when Michael gets hurt even though Michael’s far more of a functioning adult than anyone else in the crew.

Knew what he was getting himself into when it came to Ryan. Considered the inherent risks and decided Ryan was more than worth them even though the odds of anyone getting a happily ever after out of it were slim to none.

Most of the time Ryan’s good with that, accepts Michael’s choice even though he still has problems understanding it. 

(Did Geoff mention the man’s an idiot? Because he is. Biggest damned idiot Geoff’s ever met, to be honest.)

And most of the time Michael's good with countering whatever bullshit Ryan comes up with. Some stupid point he thinks will get Michael to realize the very clear mistake he’s made, that he’d be better off leaving Los Santos and Ryan behind to find a better life somewhere else.

But every once in a while there are nights like this one. The kind where the universe at large decides it hasn't given you a kick in the teeth for too damned long and sets about correcting that little oversight.

Leaves you with a black eye and aching ribs and other smaller hurts that remind you where you stand in the greater scheme of things.

The way others can get pulled into trouble after you because you forget there are consequences to every decision you make in life from the seemingly insignificant to the world-shattering.

“...yeah,” Michael says, quiet and subdued, something to it Geoff doesn’t like the sound of.

Not with these two idiots.

Ryan’s thinking of scaring Michael off for his own good, and something in Michael is thinking that it would be a good idea to let him think he’s finally succeeded. 

That Michael’s opened his eyes to the kind of vicious motherfucker Ryan can be when properly motivated. Truly sees him for the the kind of man he is like everything up to this point has been some kind of act.

And maybe it would be smarter for them.

Might keep Michael alive longer than if he stuck with them. Give Ryan one less weakness to the assholes out there looking to take him down, _but_.

There will be other nights like this where all Ryan will be able to think is that he managed to scare Michael enough to make him leave when nothing else has.

Ryan will think that Michael’s afraid of him. Afraid of what Ryan’s capable of, that he might lose control and hurt him, and Ryan will believe it. 

Will go back to thinking he’s nothing more than a monster, no redeeming qualities to him, and that, Geoff knows, that is when they’ll lose him for good.

And Michael - 

He’s going to think Ryan and the rest of them are better off without him there. That he’s just a helpless civilian best used as bait to get at the crew when that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

He’ll convince himself he’s going to be the reason one of them ends up dead one day, like everything else he’s done for them, given them, hasn’t meant a goddamned thing.

Like he is isn’t one of them.

If Geoff still had a heart, dealing with these two idiots would be enough to break it.

“Are you going to let him?” he asks, because it doesn’t pay to be subtle with this kind of nonsense. Doesn’t pay to be subtle with Michael who doesn’t care for it.

Michael winces, looks away.

Thinks about it, muscle flexing along his jaw as he stares out the windows over the city.

Big sprawling thing, Los Santos.

Messy as hell as it eats up smaller communities, leaves behind broken things and greedy for more.

Doesn’t care about the people who call it home, all their hopes and dreams. The people they love and the lives they’re trying to lead best they can, how they can.

“I don’t know,” Michael admits, this sad little laugh. Twist to his lips that no one would mistake for a smile. “It would be smarter if I did, wouldn’t it?”

Geoff doesn’t answer right away, just takes a sip of his tea.

Going cold, bitter.

“Maybe,” he says after a long moment, Michael still staring out at the city. Gaze caught on the glittering lights that Geoff knows from experience are too damn enticing for the young and stupid, or just the unwary. “Maybe not.”

Not exactly helpful advice, and from the scowl Michael sends his way he’s thinking the same damn thing.

Jack would be better for this. Has all the right words for this kind of problem. All Geoff has is a lifetime of hard-earned lessons and regrets he’s learned to carry with him without weighing him down too much.

Nothing like wisdom to any of it, at least not the sort Michael needs right now.

Everyone has their regrets, things they carry with them. 

Most manage to live with them, learn from them in some small way. The rest? They never learn, just end up carrying a heavier load through life.

Geoff’s learned, through trial and error and the kind of lessons that leave their marks in indelible ways, there’s always one thing you need to ask yourself. One simple little thing to think about before you end up with a new set of consequences and a whole lot of heartache.

“Could you live with it if you did?”

Michael blinks, turns his head to look at Geoff.

Geoff sips his cold tea and lets Michael chew that one over for a while, long after his own tea goes old and forgotten between his hands. 

Until the sky begins to lighten and Los Santos shakes off the fog that’s been lingering around the city for days like a shroud.

He can’t give Michael the answer to this one. Right or wrong, or somewhere in between, because that’s not what he’s really asking for.

Michael's smart, knows his own heart better than he thinks he does. (Has to, if he hasn’t let Ryan convince him loving him is a bad idea before now.)

He’ll figure it out in his own time, his own way. 

Until then Geoff’s more than happy to share shitty tea with him waiting for the sun to rise.

========

Somewhere in there Michael makes his choice.

Throws back the last of his tea and heads off to the rooms set aside for him and Ryan at the penthouse and Geoff breathes this little sigh watching him go.

Wonders what the fallout will be from this, and why the hell Michael was stuck with such a piss-poor asshole like him for advice.

Cleans up and goes to his own rooms, crawls into bed beside Jack who shifts to make space for him, pulls him close.

“Geoff?”

Sleepy, soft. Not entirely awake just yet and Geoff wants to keep it like that just a little longer, let Jack get the rest he’s more than earned dealing with their sorry asses all the time.

_But_.

Trevor got hurt, Ryan and Michael are idiots, and is just Geoff is an older, stupider idiot.

“I’m too old for this shit, Jack,” he says. “When did I get too old for this shit?”

There’s a quiet rumble, Jack’s laughter and an arm tightening around him.

“I don’t have my notes on me,” he says, “but I’m going to guess the answer is the first time you asked me when you got too old for this shit.”

Years ago, then. 

Back when the crew got big enough they might as well have targets painted on their backs. When assholes started coming after his goddamned family.

“Fantastic,” Geoff sighs, because really. Fucking fantastic. “Thanks for that, Jack. Makes me feel better.”

It doesn’t, but Jack laughing at him about it does, just a little.

(Enough.)

========

Waking up to yelling isn’t a new phenomenon with the crew.

Waking up to Michael yelling is...Geoff wouldn’t quite say it’s a novelty these days. 

Not with the amount of times he and Ryan have stayed over, but it’s certainly not as commonplace as waking up to the others yelling.

Geoff looks over to see Jack staring at the ceiling, this dopey little smile on his face.

“What did I miss?” 

Jack chuckles, laugh lines and this certain kind of joy.

“From what I can tell, Michael's telling Ryan off for being a stubborn asshole?”

That’s not a novelty either, but it could be a good sign.

Maybe.

“Really.”

Jack looks at Geoff, warm smile on his face.

“Well, I mean. We already knew that, but seems like Michael’s planning on making sure it sinks in. Wants to make sure Ryan takes that shit to heart.”

Geoff mulls that one over, because Ryan’s thick skull and stubborn everything.

“Might take some time,” he says. “A really long time.”

Jack hums, like they both don’t know the truth of that.

“Most likely, yes,” he agrees, and something settles in Geoff’s chest at it, weight on his shoulders a little lighter if Jack thinks it’s a possibility. “A long, long time.”

(Enough.)


End file.
